The sun sets on the same horizon, a different man stands tall
He holds the key to a house that never knew his call
My grandmother's garden, now a patch of sterile stone
The scent of jasmine, a memory I hold all alone
They painted over our names on the village wall
But the echoes of our laughter, they refuse to fall
They stole the land beneath our feet, but not the sky above
They built a wall, but not a fence around our love
For the land remembers every tear, every whispered prayer
The spirit of this place, it's everywhere, it's in the air
From the olive branch to the city's mournful sound
Our story isn't over, on this sacred, stolen land
I walk the alleyways of a market that's now strange
The faces are the same, but the currency has changed
The baker's son, he speaks a language I don't know
But his eyes hold the sorrow of a forgotten echo
They broke the pots and scattered all the seeds
But hope is a wild flower, growing from our needs
They stole the land beneath our feet, but not the sky above
They built a wall, but not a fence around our love
For the land remembers every tear, every whispered prayer
The spirit of this place, it's everywhere, it's in the air
From the olive branch to the city's mournful sound
Our story isn't over, on this sacred, stolen land
In every refugee camp, a new song is born
A symphony of resilience, a trumpet of the morn
We carry the maps in our hearts, the routes are clear
Home is not a place, but a dream that is so dear
So let the wind carry our song across the barren plain
Let the stones whisper our names in the falling rain
We are the keepers of a land they can't erase
We are the soul of this time and this place
He holds the key to a house that never knew his call
My grandmother's garden, now a patch of sterile stone
The scent of jasmine, a memory I hold all alone
They painted over our names on the village wall
But the echoes of our laughter, they refuse to fall
They stole the land beneath our feet, but not the sky above
They built a wall, but not a fence around our love
For the land remembers every tear, every whispered prayer
The spirit of this place, it's everywhere, it's in the air
From the olive branch to the city's mournful sound
Our story isn't over, on this sacred, stolen land
I walk the alleyways of a market that's now strange
The faces are the same, but the currency has changed
The baker's son, he speaks a language I don't know
But his eyes hold the sorrow of a forgotten echo
They broke the pots and scattered all the seeds
But hope is a wild flower, growing from our needs
They stole the land beneath our feet, but not the sky above
They built a wall, but not a fence around our love
For the land remembers every tear, every whispered prayer
The spirit of this place, it's everywhere, it's in the air
From the olive branch to the city's mournful sound
Our story isn't over, on this sacred, stolen land
غنوا معي، أغنية الأمل والألم
لأجل بساتين الزيتون، وللمطر القادم
لأجل حق العودة، وللحرية التي نطالب بها
هذه أغنية أرضنا المسلوبة
هذه أغنية أرضنا المسلوبة
هذه أغنية أرضنا المسلوبة
هذه أغنية أرضنا المسلوبة
لأجل بساتين الزيتون، وللمطر القادم
لأجل حق العودة، وللحرية التي نطالب بها
هذه أغنية أرضنا المسلوبة
هذه أغنية أرضنا المسلوبة
هذه أغنية أرضنا المسلوبة
هذه أغنية أرضنا المسلوبة
In every refugee camp, a new song is born
A symphony of resilience, a trumpet of the morn
We carry the maps in our hearts, the routes are clear
Home is not a place, but a dream that is so dear
So let the wind carry our song across the barren plain
Let the stones whisper our names in the falling rain
We are the keepers of a land they can't erase
We are the soul of this time and this place
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